On his Knees
by SydneyVictoria
Summary: [MarkMaureen Half Roger included.] She couldn't treat his best friend like that. Oh no. [Small argumentplotbunny... read and review. Should it be continued?]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Of course... not.**

**Notes: Nothing, really. Just a annoying plot bunny.**

"You_ bitch_."

"I'm sorry, Roger? I didn't hear that. _Say it again_."

"You're a bitch, Maureen, and you know it. You can't treat him like that!"

"Like _what_?"

"Like a... a dog!"

"I do not treat Mark like a dog!"

"You drag him practically on a leash!"

"He just does everything I say, I don't make him."

"You threaten him!" Roger barked, now parallel to her, inches away. "He's forced."

Maureen shoved him back. "Like shit I do. You don't know Mark."

"Mo, I'm his best friend." He whispered, staring at her.

"I've known you longer than I've known him. Same for you. You were my best friend before he showed up." 

"Don't pull that guilt trip," He muttered.

"It's true. So, therefore, as his girlfriend, I know him better."

"You are a bitch!" He shouted.

"You don't know how much Mark loves me! You don't know how much he cares! He loves me more than anything in this world. I_ am _his world! I'm his everything! He trusts me with his life! Hell, our first date, I dragged him into my room and screwed the poor guy. I was on top and from then on, he knew who wears the pants in the relationship! He know! He knows I'm the leader and I have him eating out of the palm of my hand! He's on his knees for me and that's how it's going to stay."

"That's shitty to do to him. He may love you, but_ no one_ should be treated like that," Roger hissed, grabbing her by the shoulders.

"He does it on his own." She whispered, not able to meet his stare.

"I'm going to tell him."

"Tell him _what_?" She growled, looking up with a jerk.

"That you're cheating."

"HA! That's a lie!"

"I think_ you're_ a lie."

She nearly spit in his face. "_I'm_ the lie?"

"Yea," He breathed, holding her waist tightly.

"Then why are _you_ the one fondling my sides?"

He gripped tighter, trying to keep her short attention-span. "I'm going to tell him."

"Go ahead." Maureen said, clearly not threatened and stepped away. "Well? Go. He won't believe you."

Roger hissed something threatening (Though she wasn't quite sure what) in her face before storming out of the loft. No one treated his friend like that -no, scratch that- his _best _friend. Not even Maureen Johnson. He knew her game too well.

**A/N: Random plot bunny itching me for awhile. Had this little argument stuck in my head. Should I continue?**


	2. Before Hand and Explanations

Maureen smiled. For once, there was no yelling. There was nothing. _Silence_. 

_Silence,_ She thought to herself, breathing in the smell of New York. (Which, no, wasn't the best aroma... but it was home.)

Looking around the loft she shared with Mark, Roger, and Collins, she sighed. Collins was gone at MIT. Her best friend! Gone! At least she had Roger. Roger could make some of the best crude jokes ever; they loved to sit and make everything into a sex joke. It was their specialty.

Maureen looked over towards Roger's bedroom door. She had just gotten up and was wondering why he wasn't up. Mark was probably out filming, so that wasn't unusual. Well, until she heard a moan slice through her silence.

Maureen raised an eyebrow. Since April died, Roger didn't go out. He laughed, he joked, but didn't leave the loft. The moan, however, was coming from his room. Why? He surely didn't have someone in there with him... did he?

That wasn't his moan. His was low, almost a growl, really. She had heard him and April enough to know. This moan wasn't... a scream, nor something low. It didn't sound feminine, to be honest. It sounded... in between, like... like Mark's moan, almost.

_No,_ she thought. _He's out filming_.

Or was he?

Looking over, she saw something she hadn't noticed before. There, on the make-shift hook that was clumsily hung on the wall, held his scarf.

Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... didn't matter; he_ always_ wore that scarf while he was out.

People knew him for the blue and white scarf! Why wasn't he wearing it?

"He must not be out!" She exclaimed aloud now, and her gaze fell back on the door of her "friend." _Roger wouldn't do this! He can't be THAT desperate!_

Maureen stormed over to the door and flung the door open. "ROGER SAMUEL DAVIS, what are you-" She stopped short, seeing only Roger's bare back... Roger's bare back on top of a half clothed, scrawny, blond boy. Mark.

Without another doubt, Maureen slammed the door shut and stormed out of the loft. _The bastards_.

A Hour Before

"Hey, I'm going out." Mark said, poking his head into Roger's room. "It's cold. I'm borrowing your sweater."

"The green one?" Roger asked, looking up from his paper. He was shirtless (His green sweatshirt was left on the couch in the living room), but he had his usual plaid pants on. _The Village Voice_ was in his hands as he relaxed into his bed. "You can't."

"Well," Mark said, smiling. "I already am."

"What?"

Mark opened the door so Roger could see that was he indeed wearing his favorite green sweatshirt.

Roger flung the paper aside. He bared his teeth, nearly growling. "_Give_."

"What? Rog, no. I'm wearing it now."

"NO!" Roger yelled, climbing off the bed. "Give!"

"No!" Mark yelped, backing up. "I'm going to film before Maureen wakes up!"

"GIVE!" Roger yelled one last time before dragging Mark's scrawny ass over to his bed. He threw him on it.

"Roger!" Mark yelped, trying to be quiet for his girlfriend in the other room.

Roger let out a "battle cry" as he jumped on top of the blond.

"ROGER!" Mark cried out once more before Roger's hand slipped over his mouth.

Maureen, by now, had woken up and went to sit at the kitchen while drinking a cup of coffee. It was quiet; only because Mark's cries were silenced.

Roger, however, heard Maureen get up. Mark was clearly ignorant to that fact. Roger got a wicked smile. He wanted to play a little joke.

"_Oh_," He moaned loudly, hoping Maureen heard. He held back a laugh when Mark's eyes widened.

Mark tried slapping at Roger's hand to stop him (And figure out what the hell was going on), it failed, however.

Wanting Mark to groan too, to aid in his joke, he pulled his hand away and kneed Mark in the groin.

This got the expected moan that Roger wanted. Seconds later, he heard his door being flung open.

"ROGER SAMUEL DAVIS," He heard, flinching at her use of his middle name, then: "what are you-" She stopped. _She thinks we're screwing_, he thought gleefully. His joke was working!

All of a sudden, right before he was about to laugh and surprise Maureen, she slammed the door. Maybe this was taking it a little too far?

As soon as she stormed out, Mark got the strength to shove the rock star off, ignoring the pain in his crotch. "YOU!" He yelped, standing up. "How could you?"

"It was a joke!" Roger said, trying apologize. "She couldn't have taken that seriously. Doesn't she know we wouldn't...?"

"Clearly not!" Mark yelled, turning red. He ripped off Roger's favorite sweatshirt and flung it at him. "MAUREEN!" He called, trying to run after her. "Maureen?" He asked, once in the hallway.

She was already gone.

**AN: Well, here we go. The 2nd part to the argument. More to come. This is what I do when I'm sick as a dog and can't get out of bed. I haven't gone to school for two days! Wish me luck out of this horrid illness. Reviews are love.**


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